


To The Ones Left Behind

by NotJustFeet



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:56:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotJustFeet/pseuds/NotJustFeet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the Avenger Kinkmeme - Alternate scenarios in which one of the Avengers dies in combat and one of their teammates has to do the next-of-kin notification.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fury breaks the news

**Author's Note:**

> Contains major character death, and depictions of violence. I intentionally wrote all these to try and break hearts.

Nick Fury has walked these halls enough times to know the path. He knows when to stop for the search, and knows when to start. He knows where to turn, where to step, where the exits are. But this time, this time, everything is different.

He can feel the weight of his words on his shoulders, feel them pressing him down into the carpet, each foot lifting as if from a soggy mire, before plunging back to earth as if encased in lead.

The President waits behind his desk, false smile there and gleaming as he nods politely to a reporter who just won’t take the hint and leave. The hummingbird of a press secretary darts here and there, casting anxious looks over at Fury, while simultaneously trying to chivy his errant charge out of the room.

In truth, Nick doesn’t want to take that final step. He waits in the shadow of the doorframe, reluctant to step into the light and acknowledge the truth of his burden. They call him heartless, they call him soulless, they think he’s made up of clockwork and gears, with no human emotion at all.

But as he looks down at the hem of his coat, he can’t see the stains that are there. He can’t see the merest hint of that bloody red under his nails. All he can see is those blue eyes, wide in death, blond hair matted with lifeblood. There was so much blood, draining across the tarmac in a torrent of life.

At least it would have been quick.

The false smile has drained from the President’s face as the reporter has been herded away. The man slumps in his chair, posture forgotten for that one split second between duties. As Fury gathers himself, and steps into the room, the President looks up, and Fury knows that his expression gives everything away.

“Mr President, Captain America is dead.”


	2. Tony Speaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on the Avenger Kinkmeme - Alternate scenarios in which one of the Avengers dies in combat and one of their teammates has to do the next-of-kin notification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains major character death, and depictions of violence. I intentionally wrote all these to try and break hearts.

It’s the least he can do for Bruce. The scandal rags had tried to paint them as lovers, but they had been nothing more than brothers. Brothers in science, and brothers in arms. Tony had never been scared of The Hulk, had never feared him in that way that he possibly should. But then, Tony reflected bitterly, he wasn’t known for his sensibilities.

He has come in his armor, repulsors flaring as he touches down on the ground in front of the suburban house. As if the Iron Man will protect him from this news, will stop it being true.

But he was there, he saw everything, and Tony knows that instead of Afghanistan, the image of Bruce’s severed head will haunt his dreams and his nightmares.

He swallows thickly at the bile rising in the back of his throat.

She probably already knows. The media love to cover every battle, every public mission. They love to speculate, love to predict, love to comment on things they know nothing about.

“If I die,” Bruce had said one night, alone in the lab. “I want you to tell Betty.”

Tony had laughed it off, made some quip about the Big Green Guy not letting that happen, but he had still nodded, acknowledging the request.

The Big Green Guy had been no protection against sudden decapitation.

The door is already opening, his entrance hasn’t gone unnoticed. She is a beautiful woman, Betty Ross, and even in his grief, Tony can find a moment to compliment his science brothers taste. As his visor lifts though, all the pretty words he had lined up turn to ash in his mouth, all the heartfelt condolences and lies about Bruce’s last words being of her.

Instead, the tears come, and it’s Betty who steps forward to wrap her arms around the unyielding armor, muttering soothing nothings as her own tears start to flow.

They both loved him, in their own ways.


	3. Thor goes home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on the Avenger Kinkmeme - Alternate scenarios in which one of the Avengers dies in combat and one of their teammates has to do the next-of-kin notification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains major character death, and depictions of violence. I intentionally wrote all these to try and break hearts.

Thor is dead.

He lies on the roof of a yellow taxi where he fell, crashing down from the sky like his lightning. His skin is pale and waxy in death, shot through with the venomous green tendrils of magic that drained his life.

Loki, in custody, does not struggle, his own venomous eyes open wide with disbelief, frozen with shock, still in that moment when his bright brother fell to his hand.

The roof of a taxi is no fit resting place for a warrior though.

Absently running a hand through his cowl ruffled hair, Steve wonders what should be done with the body. He is no stranger to men falling in battle, and is no stranger to telling loved ones that their son, their husband, will no longer be coming home.

Later, he’ll let himself grieve for his friend, his team mate. Later he’ll go through the day in his dreams, trying to find someway that he could have saved Thor. But for now, he must be Captain America.

The Thunderer’s body is heavy as Steve lifts him bridal style. He can feel the muscles in his arms burning, but it’s a pain that he will put up with. His friend deserves this respect.

But there are always those to tell of the fallen, those who must know. And there is only one who can make it happen right now.

“Heimdall, if you can see us, bring him home,” he says calmly to the sky, before his world dissolves.

Asgard is bright, brighter than mortal eyes can stand. The repaired Bifrost glows, it’s rainbow shadows illuminating the dark and somber face of Heimdall. There is no joy in the Guardians expression, only sorrow.

“Golltoppr awaits to bear the Son of Odin home,” Heimdall spoke.

There is no pleasure in the sights of Asgard, no joy at the wonder of it all. Steve is acutely aware of the golden-maned horse walking beside it, carrying its burden. Heimdall remained behind, and so Steve makes this walk alone.

But Odin knows, and meets Steve at the gate, eye bright with tears that he refuses to let fall. Frigga, at his side, has no such reservations, and her gleaming tears are like a waterfall as she steps to her fallen son’s body.

“He fell bravely in battle,” Steve says. “He died defending the people of Earth, he died a warrior.”

“He will not be in Valhalla,” Frigga whispers softly. “The curse has shattered him. He is lost to us,” and the pain in her voice brings tears to Steve’s eyes. “We did not foresee this.”

There are no more words of comfort that Steve can think to speak, and so he bows his head in reverent silence as Thor is lifted free. Odin steps forward, and takes the limp body of his son in his arms.

Thor is dead.


	4. Hawkeye No Longer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on the Avenger Kinkmeme - Alternate scenarios in which one of the Avengers dies in combat and one of their teammates has to do the next-of-kin notification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains major character death, and depictions of violence. I intentionally wrote all these to try and break hearts.

The machines are silent. The frantic activities of the healers have ceased. Where once was hope, there is nothing.

The thing that used to be Clint Barton lies on the table, torn open and violated, wet and red flesh exposed to the uncaring air. His eyes are glassy, no longer will Hawkeye watch from above. The ragged stumps of the fingers on his right hand have ceased to weep, blackened scabs taking the place of the bloody tears.

The white of the healers stitches are bright against his skin, but there were too many wounds, too much damage done. How long his captors had him, Thor does not know.

They tried their best for him. The hours ticked by as they tried to save him, as the Avengers watched. But in the end, it was a mercy for Clint to pass away into the darkness. Tony was the first to leave, and Thor could not blame him. The horrors of his own captivity in that far away sand filled cave must have been too near the surface. Bruce was the next to go, seeking calmness to drive away the monstrous friend that howled for revenge.

Steve left to sleep, vowing to return as soon as he could. He at least understood there was little be done by standing vigil. Natasha tried, but her own wounds caught up with her. She lies now curled up in a corner, tucked in on herself, as if to shield herself from the world.

Only Thor remains, and only Thor was witness to Clint’s passing. There was no awakening from his unconsciousness, no return to life and to pain, for which Thor was glad.

With soft footsteps, he leaves the room. The Helicarrier is silent tonight, hushed, as if every agent is holding their breath. Thor knows that he should go to Fury, should break the news to the Director first. But there is another who deserves to hear it first.

Coulson was Hawkeyes handler, but more than that, a friend. A shield-brother. Thor sometimes finds it hard to cast Midgardans customs into Asgardian ways, but this he understands. The Son of Coul was a friend to Hawkeye.

The light of Coulsons office is still on, and the other man is there, red rimmed eyes staring unseeingly at Thor as he stands in the doorway.

“I am sorry,” Thor begins slowly. “Your healers tried their best, but our friend was too far down the paths of the dead to be recalled.”

Coulson simply looks at him, his lips curling around an instinctive denial.

“It may be of scant comfort to you, but he dwells in Valhalla now, at a high, honoured place. He fell in battle, fighting to the last against his captors. He will be honoured, and tales of his bravery sung for many ages yet to come.”

Coulson nods. “Thank you, Thor,” is all that he says, but Thor knows that his presence is no longer required.

He returns, not to stand vigil over what once was Hawkeye, but to watch over Natasha. The living need his strength now.

And someday, he will see Clint again, in the feasting halls of Odin.


	5. He Would Have Taken A Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on the Avenger Kinkmeme - Alternate scenarios in which one of the Avengers dies in combat and one of their teammates has to do the next-of-kin notification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains major character death, and depictions of violence. I intentionally wrote all these to try and break hearts.

It hurts to lose someone. It’s an ache in her chest, a fire in her veins. She wouldn’t be who she was is she didn’t wanted revenge. Tony Stark was an asshole at the best of times, but he was their asshole, and he would have taken a bullet for any of them.

Natasha doesn’t want to be the one to do this. Her business was always in taking lives, not consoling the ones left behind. She could tell you the three places on the body to incapacitate someone in a hug, but not how to give comfort properly.

She is scared.

But she has never let fear rule her, and so she knocks on the door, a quick three raps, feeling the sting in her knuckles.

Pepper is sleep tousled when she opens the door, hair mussed, wearing flannel pajamas. But her welcoming smile is bright, and Natasha grits her teeth at the thought of wiping that brightness away.

“Natasha, hi! When did you get back?” and Pepper glances over her shoulder as if checking for something.

(Tony always texts her when he gets back from being Iron Man, even if it is just to crow about how he saved the day again. She’s wondering why he hasn’t yet.)

“Not too long,” Natasha replies. “May I come in?” and she knows her tone is off.

Worry blooms across Peppers face, as she ushers Natasha inside, and closes the door behind her.

“What’s wrong?” Pepper asks bluntly.

“We...” and Natasha could hate herself for stalling. “Tony’s dead,” she blurts it out.

Pepper drops like a marionette that’s just had its strings cut, landing with a thump on the couch. She stares at Natasha in shock.

“How?” she breathes.

Natasha doesn’t want to say, nobody should have to hear it.

“How!” Pepper repeats at a louder volume, and Natasha can hear the note of hysteria creeping in there.

“The arc reactor,” and Natasha won’t deny her the explanation, but there are some details that Pepper does not need to know. “The shrapnel couldn’t be stopped in time.”

No need to tell her of the taunting of their opponent, no need to tell them of the way that he made the Iron Man armour mold like it was still liquid. No need to tell her of the way Tony had jerked and spasmed as the shrapnel tore its way through his ventricles, how the metal of his suit formed his coffin, cracking bones and tearing flesh as it contorted.

Nobody needed to know that.

Pepper is dry eyed as she stares at Natasha, but the assassin can see the roiling flood of emotion beneath the surface.

“Thank you for telling me, Nat,” and Natasha lets the diminutive pass unremarked. “I think I’d like to be alone now.”

Natasha won’t tell of the screams of grief she hears after she leaves, nor will she tell of her own tears as the sound of such loss. Love is for children,whether the love of a friend or a lover. Love and the hurt that comes with love, cannot be acknowledged without showing a weakness. Come the daylight, she must be the Black Widow, loveless, but seeking revenge. But in the darkness of the night, she can let herself be that child. She can let herself cry.


	6. Fix Pretty Widow!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on the Avenger Kinkmeme - Alternate scenarios in which one of the Avengers dies in combat and one of their teammates has to do the next-of-kin notification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains major character death, and depictions of violence. I intentionally wrote all these to try and break hearts.

Hawkeye doesn’t see it. He’s too busy trying to get four arrows in the air to take the pressure of an embattled Cap.

The first he knows that something has happened is when the Hulk roars.

After working alongside Big and Green for a while now, Clint is getting used to the noises he can make. Usually they’re happy ones at being able to smash things. This one though, sounds almost lost?

Abruptly, his perch shakes. Cracks seam in the gargoyle and Clint, not willing to risk a plunge to the ground, backtracks to the thin window ledge behind him, and then up onto the roof.

Where the Hulk waits for him.

“Fix Pretty Widow!” the Hulk demands, and only then does Clint spot the bloodied mess at Hulk’s feet.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Clint curses, dropping his bow and falling to his knees beside his partner. He’s no medic, he only has the basic field training, but he can see that it’s bad. There are two shots right in her left breast, and if it was anyone but Natasha, Clint might be admiring their aim. There is one to the side of her face that has torn away half of her left ear, and there has to be more from the slowly spreading pool of blood.

“Widow said to take to Hawkeye. Hawkeye fix!”

There is no pulse.

Clint doesn’t even bother with the swearing, doesn’t even try with CPR. He doesn’t know what to do, with his best friend in the world lying beside him, and another friend towering above, asking him to save her. Maybe the medics could do something, but they’re on the ground, and she’s up here. Who knows what damage has already been done by moving her..

Natasha would have known. She would have known that she was dying. She would have known that Hawkeye couldn’t fix her.

This was her way of saying goodbye. A cruel way, perhaps, to make him see her this last way, rather than remembering her as she was. But this was what she wanted, and he will not blame the dead for it. He won’t blame the messenger either.

He doesn’t realise that he’s crying, until a green hand gently swipes the falling tears from his face, and dark eyes look at the wet stain.

“Hulk will wait with Hawkeye,” he is told, and is firmly pressed to a green side.

He doesn’t care about the battle anymore.

Clint needs to say goodbye.


	7. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on the Avenger Kinkmeme - Alternate scenarios in which one of the Avengers dies in combat and one of their teammates has to do the next-of-kin notification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains major character death, and depictions of violence. I intentionally wrote all these to try and break hearts.

They had tried to fight, that was their whole purpose as a team. Not only their team, but all of the superheroes, all of the mutants, anyone who could rise up. But there was no fighting against this, not against Galactus. All they did was exhaust their strength, hoping and praying for a miracle. But there was none.

All that there was left was dust, floating in the timeless void, where the Earth used to be.

Who was there left to tell of the death of Earths Mightiest Heroes? Who was left to mourn their loss?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was deliberately kept short, aiming for maximum punch in fewest words.


End file.
